Life for Rent
by Lil Grrl Bleu
Summary: Ed and Jillian Deline must adapt to raising the daughter of Ed's sister when she's brutally killed by her husband.
1. Prologue

Title: Life for Rent

Author: Mackenzie

Email: "Las Vegas"

Disclaimers: I only own the following: Kyra (pronounced "K-eye-ra") Eubanks, Robert Eubanks, Susannah Deline Eubanks, Judge Alistair McPhee, Detective Rudy Bravo, officers Manuel Noriega, Sarah Bowden, and Drs. Porter Daniels, Isabella Mays and Ginger Lewis. Everybody else is owned y Gary Scott Thompson. Do NOT sue me, I have a crappy minimum wage job and trust me, you won't get anything from me, I just take these characters out, have a little fun with them, torture them and put them back.

Spoilers: We'll say everything till the season 3 finale, just to be safe.

Author's Notes: Props to Dido for the title, which came from her album of the same name. Also, this story is NOT within the same realm of my previous stories, however, just to be on the safe side, we'll say that it is in it's own universe. Also, this is a Deline family focused story, so if you stumbled onto this expecting to read a long saga about Danny and Mary finding their way to each other, sorry to disappoint. One more thing, I know SQUAT about boats and boating in general, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. Also, props to Arky for helping with the geography.

-Prologue-

-June 12, 1994-

_The sounds of a yacht zooming across the Atlantic Ocean could be heard by nobody but the person driving the boat. The Man looked over and allowed his aqua eyes to fall onto the oddly shaped object that was wrapped tightly in black plastic trash bags, secured by rolls of silver duct tape. Shaking his head, he sighed. It took him four boxes of trash bags and three rolls of the tape to get everything covered. One thing The Man did not expect was the amount of blood that came oozing from the head of the woman whom he was killing._

_Reaching what he believed was the Caribbean Sea, The Man stopped for a refuel in Port-au-Prince, Haiti and wound up spending the night on the boat. The next morning, well before dawn, The Man started the boat back up again and began his trek down to Jamaica. Having prepared beforehand for the trip, The Man had several coolers filled with sodas, juice, water, food and even a refrigerator and microwave on board in the small kitchen. Reaching the Jamaican waters shortly after noon, local time. Not wanting to take any chances at being caught, The Man drove the boat until he was completely surrounded by the blue abyss of the Caribbean Sea. Casting a glance over his shoulder in all angles, The Man was confident that there were no other boats around to interrupt what he was doing. _

_Slowly shutting the engine off of his boat, The Man dropped anchor and stepped off the platform that housed the wheel. Walking into a small onboard room, The Man lugged four cinder blocks out and then grabbed some twine. Sighing heavily as he approached the body, The Man carefully pulled a piece of tape off the plastic bag, slowly so not to rip the delicate material and looked into the face of his wife. Sighing heavily, he shook his head, "I'm sorry."_

_Carefully reapplying the tape, The Man grabbed another roll of the tape and pulled a piece off, arms length, and ripped it with his teeth and wrapped it around the piece that he had messed with, not wanting the water to ease it open. Grabbing the twine, The Man looped it around end of the body several times and then secured it to a cinder block. Repeating the process on the other end, he looked at the two remaining cinder blocks. Deciding that two were enough to weigh the body down, The Man carefully picked the body up with a loud grunt. Within seconds, he was throwing the body overboard The Helios._

_Quickly going back to the platform of the wheel, The Man pushed a button which retracted the anchor and turned the boat. Seconds later, he was speeding across the surface of the warm Caribbean Sea. Driving at least three hundred miles to the south, towards Nicaragua, he again dropped anchor and shut the vessel off. Going back to the remaining cinder blocks, The Man gave both a shove off the side of the boat and then went over and repeated a process he did earlier of retracting the anchor and turning the boat on, this time, he was heading back into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, more specifically, he was heading up towards the coast of Florida where he planned to moor the boat in Miami. Once he had pulled into the Miami harbor, The Man docked the boat and left, never returning again to pick it up._


	2. Chapter One

-1-

-July 20, 1994-

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

Ed Deline sighed as he shook his head as his eyes scanned the reports in front of him. Letting out a cry of frustration, the fifty-one-year-old-man threw the manila file folder across the room, the contents littering a trail from his desk to where it finally landed.

Shaking his head again, Deline pushed himself away from his desk and stood up. Heading towards the mess he made, he glanced at his Rolex watch and let out a grunt. "So much for trying to get out of here early," he mumbled to himself.

"Working hard, or hardly working?"

Ed glanced up to see his partner, Jack Keller, looming in the door way of his office. Sighing, he shook his head, yet again, "What the hell do you want?"

"Now is that anyway to talk to your partner, Eddie?" Keller asked with a grin. "Here," he said, handing him a yellow piece of paper, "Francine wanted me to give this to you."

"Why would my secretary want you to give me a phone message?" Deline wondered.

"Because apparently," Jack started as he walked towards Ed's desk, "her boss ripped the cord out of his phone and she couldn't get him on speaker." To prove his theory, Jack held up the cord.

Rolling his eyes, the CIA agent simply gave his partner a small grin before he cast his eyes downward to read his message. Watching as the color drained from Ed's face, Jack went over to him, concerned, "Ed, what is it?"

"My sister," he mumbled softly, his eyes still skimming the message.

Keller blinked in surprise, "Sister? What sister?"

"Exactly," Ed said with a heavy sigh, throwing the message onto his desk. Wordlessly, he grabbed his coat and walked out of his office.

-Thirty Minutes Later-

Ed walked into the front door of the brownstone in the Nation's Capitol that he shared with is wife of twenty years. Tossing his keys into a glass bowl on a sideboard, Ed loosened his tie as he walked further into the house, "Jillian?"

Searching the house for his wife, Ed stopped when he saw her standing in the kitchen, stirring up a bowl of salmon salad. "Susannah's dead."

Dropping the spoon into the bowl, Jillian looked up at her husband, in disbelief, "What?"

Sighing heavily, Ed walked in and sat down at on a barstool at the breakfast bar, "Mom called me. Apparently, Susannah and Robert got into a big fight and she just disappeared. Mom's tried reaching her and she can't get through to her, Robert has no idea where the hell she is either, nor is he being very cooperative."

"Eddie," Jillian said sympathetically. Walking over to her husband, she moved behind him and gently rubbed his shoulders. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, quietly, "That doesn't mean that she's dead. You know how Susannah and Robert fight, it happens so much."

Turning his body, Ed looked at her, "She disappeared on June 12, Jill... That's thirty-nine days ago. No way in hell would Susannah leave Kyra for thirty-nine days with Robert by herself. You know that as well as I do."

The blonde haired woman sighed as she thought of their twelve-year-old niece, knowing that her husband was right. "Come on," she said, kissing him again as she pulled him off the stool, "why don't you go clean yourself up. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Nodding reluctantly, Ed slid off the barstool and headed into the bathroom, his mind full of worry over his baby sister.


	3. Chapter Two

-2-

-Present Day, Montecito Resort and Casino, Las Vegas, NV-

The woman walked into the Montecito wearing a short mini that barely covered what it was supposed to. Her long dark hair flowed around her face and back, stopping just short where the hem of her too short skirt stopped.

"Oh, damn," Mike Cannon said as he watched the woman from the confines of the surveillance room. "That woman is hot with a capital 'h'."

Danny McCoy, Mike's friend and often cohort, to say nothing of a fellow surveillance worker at the Montecito, walked over and stood behind his friend, watching the woman on the screen, "Dude, that has got to be the hottest woman I've ever seen in my life, I would so love to take her back to my place and show her a few things."

"Hey!" a gruff voice said from behind, "Don't you two knuckleheads have anything important to do? Like, say work for instance?"

McCoy and Cannon quickly turned around to find that they were looking into the annoyed face of their boss, Ed Deline. "Hey, Ed," McCoy started, "we were just checking surveillance."

"Uh-huh," Deline said, not buying it for a moment. Reaching down, Ed punched a few keys on the keyboard and brought up multiple camera angles on the large screens. "There, I've just made your job a little easier," he said with a grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go meet my niece downstairs. Kyra just got back from spending a few months in Georgia."

That said, Ed turned and walked out of the surveillance room, heading down to meet with his niece.

--------

Once he got down onto the casino floor, Ed smiled as he approached his niece, "Kyra."

Kyra Eubanks turned around and gave her uncle a radiant smile as she went over and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, "Hey there, Uncle Ed..." kissing his cheek, Kyra stepped back and smiled at him, "You really look good. Grandma was right, you've turned into a handsome devil."

Chuckling quietly, Ed glanced around as he felt his cheeks warm at the compliment, "Well, you look very beautiful yourself, so much like your mother." Pausing, he glanced around again, "Where's your bags?"

"Didn't bring any," Kyra responded, "I figured that Vegas was the best place to get a new wardrobe."

Laughing quietly, Ed nodded, "Now I see why you and Delinda got along as well as you did." Gently linking his arm through her's, Ed led the woman through the casino towards the employees' entrance, "Now, Kyra," he began as he slid the key card through the lock and opened the door, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't give me a heart attack and the male members of my staff a hard-on and wore more appropriate clothing."

Rolling her clear blue eyes, the woman merely let out a sigh followed by the hint of a grin, "I've seen Delinda wear less than this before, Uncle Ed."

"True," Deline conceded, "however, never when I was in the same building."

Leading Kyra upstairs, Ed bypassed the surveillance room and brought her into his new office. Walking into the office, Ed headed over towards his desk and then gestured for his niece to sit down, "Have a seat, honey, I just need to finish something up and then we can meet your aunt for lunch." Glancing up at her, he asked, "Is Alizé okay?"

Unused to Vegas culture, Kyra simply blinked, "Um..."

"Alizé," Ed repeated. "It's at the Palms. It's a good place. It's actually next door to the Ghost Bar and I'm sure that Delinda will take you there, against my strong objections not to."

Kyra just rolled her eyes as she grinned at him, "Always the old fuddy-duddy."

Smirking at her, Ed sat down behind his desk, "I'll just be a few minutes."

Kyra nodded as she walked around the office, not taking the seat. Instead, she walked over to the large picture window that overlooked the illustrious Las Vegas Strip and let out a quiet whistle, "You don't get views like this in Miami."

"Oh please," Ed said as he rolled his eyes, "Instead you guys get an ocean view as well as a view of South Beach. If anything you guys have it better."

"Oh sure," Kyra said, her voice tainted with a bit of bitterness, "Ocean view, SoBe, murdering fathers... we've got it all in Miami."

Setting his pen down, Ed sighed quietly as he kicked himself. Standing up, Deline walked around his desk, he perched himself on the front edge, "Kyra," he said quietly, his voice almost gravel-like.

Turning around, the woman looked at her uncle and it was in that second that Ed saw that her eyes were still filled with pain, unforgiveness and rage. Pushing himself away from the desk, Ed walked over and took the young woman in his arms, speaking quietly, "Have you spoke to him?"

Sighing heavily, Kyra shook her head no and then pulled back. Reaching around her uncle, she grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and dabbed her eyes, "No," she said quietly, "I don't even know if I want to go to the execution." Pausing, she looked at him, "Are you going?"

The former CIA agent shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know yet."

"What about Grandma? Is she going?"

"I don't know," Ed said honestly. "I talked to her last week and she was still on the fence."

Kyra nodded, quietly, "If you and Aunt Jillian go, I'll go. But I can't go alone."

Her uncle nodded, "Nobody would expect you to, Kyra." Walking over, he planted a kiss on the top of her forehead and then walked back around his desk and sat down to finish up some last minute paperwork.

------------------

-Alizé, Palms Hotel, Las Vegas, NV-

"I can't believe that the state of Florida has dragged this on for almost twelve years," Jillian Deline stated as she sipped her merlot.

Kyra sighed inwardly as she listened to her and aunt and uncle talk of the impending execution of her father.

"I mean, really, Eddie," Jillian continued as she looked at her husband, "It's very cut and dry, isn't it? Robert killed Susannah and then dumped her body overboard."

Sensing her cousin's discomfort, Delinda reached under the table and grabbed Kyra's hand for support and then smiled at her mother, "Mom, are you still planning on heading to the runways in Milan this summer?"

Unaware that the subject was changed intentionally, Jillian smiled at her daughter, "If I can get a traveling partner. Think you can take off?"

Delinda grinned at her mother, "I think that might be arranged."

Squirming uncomfortably in her chair, Kyra cleared her throat quietly, "Would you guys please excuse me for a minute?" Setting her linen napkin on the small appetizer plate before her, she pushed her chair back and grabbed her purse and walked away from the table.

Frowning as she watched her go, Delinda set her own napkin on the table, "I'll go see if she's okay." Pushing herself away from the table, the woman got up and followed her cousin out of the restaurant.

"You know," Ed began once he was alone with his wife, "honey, I know you didn't mean anything by it, but please try to remember that this isn't an easy time for Kyra."

Jillian regarded her husband curiously, "What did I say?"

"You just keep..." he sighed and paused and then looked at her, "just try not to talk about Robert Eubanks so often, please. Especially in front of Kyra."

Jillian nodded guiltily, "I will, I'm sorry."

Smiling softly, Ed leaned across the table to kiss his wife.

-----------------

"Hey."

Kyra glanced up and smiled softly when she saw her cousin sit down next to her in the large overstuffed chair that was one of many in the lobby of the Palms Hotel. "Hey," she said back.

"Mom didn't mean to upset you up there, Kyra," Delinda said, "I think she just isn't quite sure what to say."

"She never had any problem when I was growing up," Kyra pointed out with a sigh. "Delinda, I lived with your parents, you and Nessa from the time I was twelve until I was nineteen. Aunt Jillian never was at a loss for words."

"But that was then and this is now," Delinda said in defense of her mother. "Back then your dad's execution wasn't looming in the near future."

"He isn't my dad," Kyra said quietly, suddenly finding the weave in the carpet interesting, "He isn't my dad," she repeated again and then looked at her cousin, "Ed is a dad. Robert Eubanks happens to be my father. Any man can be a father, Dee, but it takes a special man to be a dad."

Delinda nodded quietly in agreement, grateful for her own father, "You are right," she said.

Sighing quietly, the other woman raked her fingers through her auburn hair, "Would you do me a favor? Will you just tell Ed and Jillian that I'll meet them in Miami? There's something I need to do."

Looking at her cousin curiously, Delinda nodded, "Sure, but what is it?"

Standing up, Kyra grabbed her purse, "Go to Miami early and talk to him. Find out why he did what he did." Leaning down, she kissed her cousin's cheek and smiled, "Tell your parents to call me when they get in Miami, I think Ed has my cell phone number."

Too stunned to stop her, Delinda simply watched as her cousin walked away.


	4. Chapter Three

_Author's Notes: The geography is going to be off a little in this. I wanted it still to take place in Miami and Florida State Prison isn't near it, so I just nudged it around the Miami area._

-3-

-Boulevard Hotel, Ocean Drive, Miami Beach, Florida-

Kyra Eubanks felt a twinge of guilt as she walked into the suite of the Boulevard Hotel, located in South Beach's Art Deco district. Aware that she should have told her aunt and uncle herself of her plans, Kyra also knew that the minute the words, "I'm going to visit my father before he dies" came out of her mouth than her uncle would have hit the roof. "It's better he hears it from Delinda," Kyra said quietly as she hung up the smart black dress in the closet, an article of clothing she had dubbed, "The Execution Dress".

Sighing quietly, the woman again looked around her environment before walking over to the large window overlooking Ocean Drive and pushed out the window, letting the sultry Miami air into the room. Leaning out the window, Kyra observed the sounds of Latin music being played up and down the road mixed in with the sounds of the ocean as it crashed against the cliffs.

Knowing that the decision to leave Las Vegas as quickly as she entered it made sense to nobody but herself, the twenty-seven-year-old native Floridian also knew that while she would always love Ed and Jillian and the life they provided her, Florida will always be the place she'll call home, despite the events of her childhood.

Walking over to the laptop she brought with her, Kyra plugged in the phone line and logged onto the internet to get directions to the Florida State Prison.

--------------------

"She did what!"

Delinda Deline sighed as her father ranted and raved, pacing his office at the same time.

"Daddy, please calm down," she begged, her eyes zeroed in on the vein in her father's forehead which throbbed angrily. "She felt she had to do this."

"I don't care if she felt the need to report the remains of Jimmy Hoffa, Delinda," Ed began, "she should have told me first."

"You aren't her father!" Delinda pointed out as she stood up and looked at her father. Sighing heavily, the blonde haired woman walked over to him and put her hands on her father's chest to calm him, speaking softly, "Daddy, she needed to do this. She loves you and mom for all the support you've given her, but she needed to this alone."

Sighing heavily, the former CIA agent resumed the pacing in his office, "This is going to break your mother's heart."

"Mom knows," Delinda admitted quietly, "I told her before coming to tell you. While she's not exactly jumping for joy, she is understanding of why Kyra did this. Besides," she paused, "Kyra said that she wanted us to call her when we were going to go down there and she'd meet us at the airport."

"She won't get any information out of him," Deline said quietly.

"She has to try though, Dad."

Turning to look at his daughter, Ed nodded his head in defeat, "If you hear anything from her..."

"You'll be the first person I call," Delinda promised, cutting him off.

"Alright," he sighed as he waved his daughter out of the room, "Go on. I need to get some paperwork finished."

Nodding quietly, his daughter kissed his cheek and headed out of his office, calling out over her shoulder, "Love you."

--------------------

-Florida State Prison-

Kyra Eubanks silently waited in the visiting confessional. Daunted by her surroundings, she kept replaying in her head over and over what the woman at the front desk of the Boulevard said earlier that morning when she asked for directions. "Oh, that's a place of real history," the desk clerk--identified by the brass nameplate on her chest which read "Sabrina"--chirped. "Many famous people were killed there... Ted Bundy, Aileen Wuornos, just to name a few."

"It's fitting," Kyra mused quietly to herself later in the cab, "that my father die in the same place that two of America's most brutal serial killers were put to death."

The loud sound of a monotone buzz shook her out of her reverie as she witnessed men and women filing into the other side of the visiting confessionals, each clad in a tangerine orange poplin jumpsuits. Kyra couldn't help but get a small smile on her face as she imagined what Ed would have to say... she knew that whatever her uncle would say, she was sure that it would be something along the lines of looking like a line of Crayola orange crayons after they were just made.

Her smile quickly faded when Robert Eubanks sat down on the other side of the Plexiglas screen. "Hello, pumpkin."

Kyra felt the bile begin to creep up her throat at the pet name. Shaking her head, she pushed it down with a hard swallow and let out a quiet sigh, the air blowing through her pursed lips in a cool stream. "Robert."

Eubanks' smile vanished. "'Robert'?" He asked. "When did we get so formal?"

"When you killed my mother," she shot back.

The man sighed heavily. Reaching up to run a hand over his face, he was quickly reminded that his wrists were handcuffed together. Glancing around, he leaned forward to speak softly to his daughter, "Kyra... I did nothing of the sort. I loved your mother like you would not believe."

Kyra shook her head as angry tears filled her eyes, "Don't defame her memory anymore than you already have. You loved her? Since when does a man prove his love for a woman by strangling her, chopping her up into small pieces and dumping her overboard a boat off the coast of Cuba?"

"That wasn't me," Robert said adamantly.

"Really? Than who was it?" She spewed at him, "Your evil twin? God! How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't think you are stupid at all," he admitted quietly, "but you have to believe me, Kyra, I would never do what I've been accused of doing."

"You've been arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced," Kyra pointed out, "You are two weeks away from being jolted down to hell. You've been on death row now for twelve years. Why the hell haven't you appealed if you are so innocent?"

"What would have been the point?" Robert asked desperately. "Your uncle has more strings between his fingers than a friggen puppeteer. It wouldn't have mattered how many times I appealed, Kyra, Ed would still have made sure I wound up here."

"Because it's where you belong," Kyra said quietly. Grabbing her purse, she started to stand up.

"Wait," he pleaded softly, causing her to sit back down with a sigh. Looking at his daughter, he asked with a soft smile, "Which hotel are you in?"

Curiously, Kyra cocked her head as she looked at him, "Why?"

The inmate shrugged, "I'm curious." Seeing the hesitation on her face, he rolled his eyes, "Kyra, what am I going to do? Break out of prison and come after you?"

Letting out a quiet sigh, she said quickly, "The Boulevard on South Beach." Standing back up again, she quickly walked down the hall and banged on the gate and soon another loud buzzing was heard as she exited the area.

Once his daughter was gone, Robert stood up and walked down the hall, towards the guard and looked at him, softly, "Boulevard. Can you get me there?"

The crooked guard looked at the inmate, and his best friend, and nodded, softly, "You have grounds privileges, Bobby," he said quietly, "All I need to do is alert the warden that I need your help transporting something and it'll be a piece of cake."

Making sure that the cuffs were secure, for visionary reasons, the guard escorted the inmate back to his cell, where, in three hours, the two would orchestrate a daring escape.


End file.
